


like two-percent milk

by thefudge



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Banter, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Let's be terrible together, Multi, Nonbinary Character, Unconventional Relationship, ost: settle for me - crazy ex gf soundtrack
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-20 10:54:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19990975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefudge/pseuds/thefudge
Summary: When Beelzebub and Gabriel find out an angel and a demon are consorting behind their backs, they set out to follow them and unmask the conspiracy. Too bad this task takes more than a thousand years. Gabe/Beel





	like two-percent milk

**Author's Note:**

> title is taken from the song "Settle for Me" from the Crazy Ex Girlfriend soundtrack, and if you haven't listened to it yet, you totally should, it's an absolute gem. anyway, the idea is that Gabe/Beel is the seedy, dime store version of Az/Crowley but they work just the same ("like two percent milk, i almost taste the same").  
> Oh, and yeah I knew I was going to write this the moment Jon Hamm pointed a finger at Anna Maxwell in that final episode.

The angel and the demon thought they were so damnably clever, they thought no one had been watching them or keeping tabs on their little “dalliance”.

Well, they were in for a shock. 

The much more clever Beelzebub, prince of Hell, had been harboring suspicions since the very beginning, but seeing the two of them debauched in Rome during the height of Empire really drove the point home. 

When her henchmen told her what was happening (“we saw them, they were pouring oysters in each other’s mouths!”) she decided to investigate for herself. And indeed, she found the rascals in one of the provinces, at a private bath in a procurator’s country house, sharing a…massage, of all things. One of her trusty dung flies snuck in and saw them.

Nothing too untoward was going on. They were lying down on marble slabs, being taken care of by two scantily clad women they seemed utterly disinterested in, chatting and laughing without a care in the world. 

Beelzebub ground her jaw. This couldn’t stand. For one thing, it was absurd. She’d never seen angels and demons consort like this. 

But she was a very crafty demon, a cut above her hellish compatriots. That was why she was the leader, she didn’t rush into things. She took her time. Torture always required a degree of patience.

She pondered. What if this was some sort of trickery? One of them could be spying on the other. She would bet money on the angel doing the actual spying. They were always nastier than you expected. No wonder those bastards Upstairs had been gaining on them recently. That idiot Crowley was probably giving Aziraphale everything he had and he didn’t even know it.

On the other hand, what if the angel sometimes slipped and revealed vital details about the Upstairs’ plans? That’d be useful for the coming war.

She pondered and pondered.

Bringing Crowley to justice would mean losing this possibly fruitful connection.

There was only one way to settle this. She had to gather more information and keep watching the both of them. But more importantly, she had to talk to someone Upstairs, someone who’d see things her way. 

Beelzebub made a noise of disgust in the back of her throat. She knew just the man.

  


Gabriel should have fallen with the rest of them. He was the cockiest, the most insufferable.

Beelzebub had no idea how God could be so blind. It was really, _cosmically_ ironic because she knew for a fact that the archangel was pure evil.

 _He would’ve made a good prince of hell_ , she found herself thinking as she waited in the supply closet for him to show up.

Beelzebub recoiled at her treacherous thoughts.

By Satan’s tongue, being so close to God really addled her brains. 

_She_ was the leader, she was the prince. That bastard could keep his shiny white office space.

But objectively speaking, Gabriel would’ve been right at home with the demons.

For one thing, he didn’t mind meeting her in the middle ground. 

No sooner had she thought this than a blinding, pure light filled the supply closet and made the air almost sizzle with heavenly fire.

Beelzebub put a hand over her eyes.

“Jesus Fuck, dim that light, will you?”

“Language, Foul Fiend.”

His tone, as always, was casually disinterested. She thought it must be pretty boring up there since he always sounded the same.

Gabriel folded himself so that his heavenly light became a faint glimmer.

Beelzebub could see him now in all his ponce glory. She folded her arms. “Puffed up your hair today, did you?”

Gabriel made a face. “No, my hair is naturally bouncy.”

She sneered. “Sure. I don’t care.”

“Neither do I,” he returned, arranging his cashmere scarf over his shoulder. “Now, show me what you’ve got.”

Straight to business. She could respect that. 

Beelzebub extracted the sepia-tone stills she had managed to take of the demon and angel. This kind of technology was strictly black market, but she was sure Gabriel wouldn’t even blink.

He didn’t.

“ _Aziraphale_ ,” he said with a growl. “I should’ve known.”

Beelzebub noted the tone of displeasure. “He’s a character then, is he?”

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “You have no idea.”

“As you can see, the two are quite cozy with each other, have been cozy for a while now. My sources tell me they talk regularly.”

“What could _they_ possibly talk about?”

Beelzebub shook her head. “You won’t believe this, but they’re interested in dull human affairs.”

Gabriel wrinkled his nose. “Hu-man? Ew. How pathetic.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not buying it. This is a front of some kind. They can’t be that interested in what _Virgil_ has to say. I think it’s espionage. And I think your lot started it.” 

Gabriel raised both eyebrows. He took a step forward. The supply closet was already pretty small and this forced Beelzebub up against the wall.

“You’re not actually insinuating – we’re angels, we don’t _spy_.”

“Sure you do. You just call it being “guardian angels”.”

Gabriel’s cheeks turned a rude pink. “I’d shut up about things you don’t understand.”

“No one tells me to shut up, not anymore,” she growled.

“Oh, I can make you shut up. I can miracle your mouth away,” Gabriel growled back, drawing closer.

Beelzebub bared her teeth. “I can spit acid on you, cover you in shit from head to toe.”

Gabriel opened his mouth. He was about to leverage an equally unpleasant punishment. 

But then he stopped, stared at her.

“Wait, we’re getting distracted. We’re not mad at each other. I mean, we _are_ since we’re eternal enemies and all that,” (he paused for a small grin) “but I did not authorize Aziraphale to spy. And you did not authorize Crowley to spy. This is...this is _them_.”

Beelzebub was nonplussed. “You mean...No, that can’t be. Low-tier angels and demons can’t bloody think for themselves.” 

Gabriel frowned. “I know. Must be a fluke. Or something else is going on.”

Beelzebub bit her rotting lip. “I knew there was something wrong about this. It had a stink.”

Gabriel gave her a scathing look. “Maybe you just smelled yourself. Do you have to be covered in that...puss all the time?” 

“Only when I’m in Hell.”

“You’re not in Hell right _now_.”

Beelzebub ran a finger gleefully through the muck on her cheek. “Maybe I miss home.”

“Wipe it off,” Gabriel demanded with that archangel petulance. 

“No. Why don’t you take off that perfumed scarf? It stinks worse.” 

Gabriel put his hand over his chest. “This? This is an ensemble.”

“I thought you angels didn’t care about material things. I mean that’s your whole gimmick, you’re _immaterial_.”

Gabriel arranged his cuffs. “My clothes _are_ immaterial.”

“That wool looks pretty thick, actually -”

“We’re getting distracted again,” Gabriel snapped. “We have to do something about this.”

Beelzebub sneered. “ _Obviously_. That’s why I came here.”

“Good. So, should we set a date?”

“A date?”

“For when I burn mine in hellfire and you douse yours in holy water. _Duh_.” 

Beelzebub scratched the matted hair under her cap. “Satan’s balls, that’s what you lot do up there? At least we give them a trial.”

“Oh, spare me. We both know we want the same thing.”

“Huh. I suppose for once we do. But maybe mutual destruction isn’t it.”

“Then what?”

She scoffed. “You’re all looks and no brain, aren't you?”

Gabriel’s light started shining brighter, his features becoming needle-sharp.

“See, proving my point.” 

“Don’t test me, Harpy.” 

“Don’t be stupid then.”

Gabriel lunged at her, but she was faster. She grabbed his scarf, made a perfect garrote out of it, and pulled on it until the pretty angel turned blue in the face. Not to be outdone, Gabriel wrapped his hands around her neck and squeezed. His holiness was burning holes in her flesh. 

They stood like that for several uncomfortable moments. Neither was about to relent. A chokehold for all eternity. 

“Getting...distracted…again,” she finally mouthed.

“Your...fault,” Gabriel gasped out, veins like purple snakes. 

“No... _your_... fault.” 

Gasp.

“No... _your_... fault.”

Pant.

“No...you…”

Gasp.

“Aahh...just tell me…your plan, Harpy.”

Pant.

“All...right...here’s what I...propose.”

They didn’t let each other go until they were finished smoothing out the details of their understanding.

When they finally did, they both coughed for a long time, wheezing. It took them awhile to gather their bearings but once they did, they looked relatively pleased. 

Gabriel smoothed his scarf and gingerly touched up his hair. Beelzebub screwed her fly cap back on. 

“Well, that was...invigorating,” he decided after a long pause.

“So, we’re agreed? No one else handles this but us?” she said, massaging her throat. His hands were imprinted there. 

“I’d shake you on it,” he drawled, staring at his mark on her, “but I already have.” 

Beelzebub snorted.

Yeah, would’ve made a fine prince of hell.


End file.
